


The Closest Distance Between Two People

by StartledStarfish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boggarts, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Dementors, Dursley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), Friendship, Gen, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Laughter, Ron makes sure nobody's sad for long, but when are they not terrible?, or lack there of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StartledStarfish/pseuds/StartledStarfish
Summary: In Harry's third year, no dementors boarded the Hogwarts Express in search of Sirius Black. Remus Lupin, the new defense professor, slept the whole way there. He did not wake to cast a patronus. Harry never passed out. Never heard his mother scream. Never saw the flash of green light. Never felt the unspeakable cold drain all the happiness out of him.So when Harry’s turn came to face the boggart, his greatest fear could not be a dementor.Harry blinked and looked up into the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.





	The Closest Distance Between Two People

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Mentions of past child abuse, trauma, and neglect. 
> 
> Title is a reference to the quote: "Laughter is the closest distance between two people." -Victor Borge 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a fan work, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

In Harry’s third year, no dementors boarded the Hogwarts Express in search of Sirius Black. Remus Lupin, the new defense professor, slept the whole way there. He did not wake to cast a patronus. Harry never passed out. Never heard his mother scream. Never saw the flash of green light. Never felt the unspeakable cold drain all the happiness out of him.

 

So when Harry’s turn came to face the boggart, his greatest fear could not be a dementor.

 

Harry didn’t know what his boggart would be. There were too many things to choose from. He watched the other students go first. Some of their fears wouldn’t have frightening him in the slightest, even before they yelled, “Riddikulus!”

 

Harry would never say that out loud, though.

 

Finally, his turn came. He took a deep breath, braced himself for the worst, and stepped forward. The boggart, however, didn’t turn into Voldemort, as he suspected it might. It didn’t turn into Tom Riddle, the basilisk, Quirrell, or even Sirius Black, the mad man who was out to kill him. No.

 

Harry blinked and looked up into the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.

 

The whole class fell silent in confusion. “The Headmaster?” someone hissed incredulously. This was met with equally bewildered mutterings, and frankly, Harry echoed the sentiment. He was completely thrown off in surprise.

 

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I am afraid there’s been a terrible mistake. You don’t belong at Hogwarts.

 

“You’ve failed, my poor, dear boy.” Dumbledore smiled sadly at him. “You don’t have a place here.” The headmaster held Harry’s wand, snapping it in two with a swift and brutal motion. Harry gasped as the pieces clattered to the floor of the silent room.

 

“Riddikulus, Harry,” reminded a gentle voice behind him. Harry’s gaze snapped up from the image of his broken wand lying on the ground. It wasn’t real. It was just the boggart.

 

He raised his real wand with a shaking hand, but his mind was blank. “Ri-Riddik-kulus,” he stammered.

 

The boggart shifted, but not in the way the charm intended it to. Albus Dumbledore vanished, was replaced by the figure of Vernon Dursley.

 

“Always knew you were a freak, Boy!” Vernon boomed and Harry flinched. “Too much of a freak even for your own people! Even they don’t want you! Nobody wants you! You’re a waste of space!”

 

Vernon’s face turned purple, a vein popping out of his temple. “RIDDIKULUS!” Harry bellowed, but the charm did nothing. Vernon laughed a horrible, malicious laugh. “That won’t work for you now, boy! None of your special tricks can protect you!” Vernon stepped closer, his beady eyes glowering down at Harry. “I’ll lock you up in your cupboard for a week this time,” he threatened. “Or maybe I’ll never let you out! It’s what you deserve, you filthy, little—”

 

Suddenly, Vernon vanished. Professor Lupin was standing in front of him. “Riddikulus!” said the professor, and the boggart shifted the final time from the silver orb into a deflating balloon before being locked away in the wardrobe once more.

 

A heavy silence hung in the air. Harry stood completely frozen, completely in shock. Finally, he lowered his arm, which was still shaking.

 

Professor Lupin cleared his throat. “That wraps up our lesson for today,” he said. “I want you all to remember that while our fears are very real, the boggart is not. If any of you have questions… or simply want to discuss the class today, I will be happy to meet with you.” Harry looked down at his feet. Professor Lupin clapped his hands together briskly. “Read the next chapter on in the text before next class. Dismissed!”

 

There was a slight commotion as the class gathered themselves to leave, whispering urgently among themselves.

 

“Are you alright, Harry?” Professor Lupin asked, turning to Harry directly. Harry couldn’t look him in the eye. “I didn’t—”

 

“I’m fine, Professor,” said Harry quickly. Bowing his head before leaving the room in a rush.

 

“Harry!” heard Hermione call, but he didn’t look back. He promptly veered off in the opposite direction that the rest of the class was heading in. He was thankful nobody tried to follow him.

 

Harry didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t have a destination in mind. He turned a corner and stopped. He slumped against the wall in defeat, sliding to the floor. He was still physically shaking, his heart pounding in his chest, even though the boggart was gone and he knew that it wasn’t real. He noticed then that his cheeks were wet. How long had he been crying? He hoped he hadn’t still been in the room with everyone.

 

With everyone. With Uncle Vernon.

 

Harry pulled at his hair in frustration. They’d seen. Everybody had seen. Harry hid his face in his arms from the shame of it. Harry Potter, more afraid of his own uncle, his own failure, than even the man who’d killed his parents.

 

What was wrong with him?

 

He didn’t understand it. He hardly gave the Dursley’s a second thought when he was at Hogwarts. There were far more dangerous things in this world, then the one he left behind every summer. Was that really his worst fear? Did his uncle still control him, even here at Hogwarts? Were the Dursley’s what defined him? Even in this world, _his world_ , he couldn’t escape them. The realization made his blood boil, only to be replaced with hopelessness.

 

What was wrong with him?

 

He didn’t know how he’d face Ron and Hermione, let alone the entire class. Pretty soon, he knew, word would get around to the entire school. He’d suffered under the judgmental stares before, he could take that. He could even take the jeers and taunts that would come his way. What he couldn’t take was the sympathy. The pitying looks, people feeling sorry for him because he couldn’t get over things that happened years ago. Because he couldn’t escape his past.

 

He was weak. What sort of wizard, especially one who had defeated the Dark Lord multiple times, was afraid of a muggle and a cupboard under some stairs?

 

And Professor Lupin. Harry groaned out loud in misery. What must he think?

 

**…**

 

“Good evening, Remus.”

 

“Hello, Professor,” Remus greeted, as the deputy headmistress entered the staff room.

 

“Oh, forgive me for my lack of formality. Hello, _Professor_ ,” she corrected herself. She raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Or would you rather I just stick with Mr. Lupin?”

 

Remus smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, old habits die hard,” he confessed.

 

“Well, we have plenty of time for you to get used to it,” she said taking a seat across from him. “Don’t worry, I won’t let it go.”

 

“I appreciate it… Professor.”

 

McGonagall opened her mouth, but saw the small, playful smile on Remus’s lips, and closed it again with a sigh. “You always were such troublemaker,” she commented, magically pouring herself a cup of tea. “Everyone always said you were the conscience of the group, but I swear I saw right through your act. You were just as much a hooligan as the rest of them. You just were subtle about it.”

 

“I tried to keep it classy,” Remus grinned, but it ached a little.

 

McGonagall glanced up at him briefly before changing the subject. “How was your first day?” she inquired. “If I do recall, you expressed interest in this very position back in your consultation in fifth year.”

 

“You have an excellent memory,” he offered.

 

“It’s a professor’s job to help students succeed,” she supplied amiably. “It is always fulfilling to see one do just that.” She looked at him pointedly over her spectacles.

 

Remus blushed in surprise, ducking his head. “I wouldn’t say that.”

 

“Nonsense,” she countered. “You’ve done marvelously so far. Your fifth years had nothing but the best to say when they came into my class. You sell yourself short.”

 

“Did they?” asked Remus, genuinely astonished and somewhat relieved. “I couldn’t tell whether they were just being kind.”

 

“Children are never needlessly kind, just as I would never needlessly flatter.”

 

Remus chuckled. “Well, thank you,” he said. “Honestly, their class went fairly well, all things considered. I made rather terrible blunder in my other one, though,” he confessed, grimacing at the memory. “It was a disaster, frankly, all my own fault. I probably shouldn’t have brought in boggart first thing.”

 

McGonagall frowned. “The third years, correct? That’s a perfectly appropriate level for their skill set, I imagine.”

 

“Yes, well, I should have prepared them more effectively,” Remus admitted. “I forget, sometimes, that even though they are so young, they’ve seen… terrible things.”

 

Realization dawned on McGonagall’s face and her feature softened in understanding. She reached over and laid a hand on Remus’s arm. “You’ve met Harry Potter,” she said gently.

 

Remus could only nod, smiling soberly.

 

“It must be difficult,” she said. “He looks a lot like his father did at his age.”

 

“He really does, doesn’t he?”

 

McGonagall pursed her lips together sympathetically. “It will get easier,” she said encouragingly. “The more you get to know him, you’ll be able to see him in his own right. He looks like James, but fundamentally he’s his own person entirely. His disposition is much less reckless, although he gets into nearly as much trouble!” she huffed, but she smiled affectionately all the same.

 

Remus felt a tug of regret and longing. “Could you… could you tell me more about him?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Oh, I’m hardly sure what I could tell you. You probably hear of all the wild things he gets up to, in this school no less!” She turned up her nose at the room at large, as it the castle itself was at fault.

 

“He grew up with Lily’s family, didn’t he?” he pressed.

 

McGonagall sighed heavily. “Yes,” she acknowledged. “He lives with his aunt and uncle and cousin. They’re muggles, I’m afraid. Very unfortunate. From what I understand he knew nothing about his parents, or our world, till after he came to school. Albus sent Hagrid to bring the boy his letter. I offered to go, but Hagrid insisted.”

 

“I thought only muggleborn’s required a professor to deliver the letter?”

 

“Yes well,” she shifted uncomfortably. “It seemed the Dursley’s were rather insistent Harry not get his hands on a letter. Hagrid was only sent in after some very… persistent attempts.” She sipped her tea, frowning. “When I heard—” she stopped herself, as if reigning in frustration. “They… the Dursley’s are not very nice people.”

 

“Why on earth did he stay with them?” asked Remus feeling sicker than he did already.

 

McGonagall shook her head helplessly. “They were his only living family. I protested, but Albus insisted it would be for Harry’s own good to grow up away from the fame of being the-boy-who-lived. I trust Albus to know what’s best. Honestly, there was really no one left, with Pettigrew dead and… his godfather being….” she trailed off, biting her lip looking at him plaintively. “I’m sure you would have been considered, but with your condition—"

 

Remus held up a hand. “Of course,” he assured her quickly. “I understand. It wouldn’t have been possible, or even good for Harry to be around me. Just because I knew his parents didn’t mean anything. Plenty of people knew James and Lily. I just was curious.”

 

McGonagall looked as if she wanted to argue, but sighed instead. “It’s all such a terrible tragedy,” she said. “At least he has Hogwarts now.”

 

He wondered how much she really knew of the extent of what went on with the Dursley’s for those ten years, but didn’t press the topic further. “Yes,” agreed Remus, “he does.” But the image of the boggart Dumbledore standing there with a snapped wand in his hands and Harry standing frozen to the spot still plagued him. He wondered if Harry, who’d already lost so much, believed he could really lose Hogwarts as well.

 

…

 

Harry jumped at the sound of the tapestry around his bed shifting. “Relax, mate. It’s just me.” Harry could see Ron peeking hesitantly around the tapestry. “Can I… can I come in?”

 

Harry paused, unsure if he was ready for company just yet. But it was Ron. Ron was the only one besides Fred ad George who had seen the Dursleys before, and the only one Harry had ever really confided in about the way he’d lived before Hogwarts. Ron had saved Harry from the Dursleys that nightmare of a summer when he’d turned twelve. Ron already knew. Ron understood and didn’t look at him any differently for it.

 

Ron worried his lips between his lips anxiously. “It’s alright if you want me to go, I can just leave—”

 

“No,” said Harry softly. “You can come in.” He pulled back the tapestry enough to let Ron slip in and closed it behind him.

 

They sat across from each other. Ron with his legs crossed and Harry with his knees hugged to his chest. Neither one made direct eye contact or said anything. After a moment, Ron started rummaging around in his bag and brought out something wrapped in one of the napkins from the great hall. “Brought you something, you know, since I figured you might not want to come to dinner.” He held out the food, shrugging. “thought you might be hungry, s’all. You don’t have to take it.”

 

Harry looked at the offering. He wanted to decline, but his stomach rumbled, and it smelled good. The last thing he wanted right now was to go to bed hungry.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the bundle from Ron.

 

“Hermione was worried about you,” Ron commented offhandedly. “She wanted to chase after you when class dismissed, but I thought you might… need to be alone for a while, so I told her not to.”

 

“Thanks,” said Harry again, and felt a rush of gratitude towards his friend. Ron gave him a half smile.

 

“She’s probably gonna want to talk about it tomorrow, though, so you might want to prepare yourself. Not that you have to talk about it! Just… you know…” Ron explained clumsily. “I-I mean, if you want to talk about it that would be okay too.”

 

Harry swallowed his bite of his stolen dinner. He shrugged lamely, “I dunno, what’s there to talk about, really?” he asked, somewhat resentfully. “I mean, I learned my greatest fear is the headmaster of this school so nothing even properly scary, now everyone knows about the Dursleys locking me up in a cupboard, and I couldn’t even banish the boggart so…” he trailed off to try to cover up that his voice was shaking. He took another bite.

 

They fell into silence. “Boggart are bloody mental, mate,” said Ron suddenly, and Harry snorted lightly in surprise.

 

“What?”

 

“No for real,” said Ron seriously. “Like, their whole existence depends on scaring the hell out of people. That’s bloody mental!”

 

Harry grinned just a little, in spite of himself. “It’s pretty wild.”

 

“Right? And like, what if you have some real abstract fear or something, something like…Tuesdays, or the number 7! Does it turn into a 7 and just hover there until someone craps themselves?”

 

Harry was shaking again, but this time with stifled laughter. “Why would someone be afraid of the number 7?” he asked.

 

“Beats me,” Ron muttered, grinning right along. “Hey, what d’you reckon it turns into to make it funny?”

 

“An 8?” Harry suggested. And Ron nearly choked on the pumpkin juice he’d smuggled up, before falling into dissolving into a fit of giggles.

 

“An-an 8…” he wheezed. “That’s stupid…. not even… funny!”

 

“But you’re laughing!” said Harry through his own giggles. “And it’s not any more stupid than 7!”

 

Ron made another sound like a dying whale. “7!” he rasped. And they both fell in to a fit of laughter.

 

“Merlin,” he coughed, stifling his own laughter. “Glad I’m not the poor bloke whose afraid of 7s.”

 

“Ron,” Harry hissed, “Nobody’s afraid of the number 7. You made it up, remember?”

 

The smile slipped from Ron’s face. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I forgot.” Which sent them into another fit so violent that Harry nearly fell off the bed.

 

“Oi!” shouted Seamus. “Will you two keep it down in there? Some of us are trying to sleep!”

 

“Bugger off!” Ron shouted back. “It’s hardly passed 8 o’clock!”

 

“Yeah!” agreed Harry. “It can’t be more than _7 passed 8_ , right, Ron?”

 

And they once again lost themselves in a fit of laughter, accompanied by Seamus’s groans.

 

…

 

“Harry, a quick word, if you please.”

 

Harry held back, and let the rest of Professor Lupin’s class file out ahead of him.

 

“Yes, Professor?” Harry asked somewhat nervously. He didn’t think he’d done anything in particular to warrant trouble, but honestly, he couldn’t be sure.

 

“Don’t worry, you aren’t in trouble,” Professor Lupin reassured him gently. He leaned against his desk, studying Harry carefully. Professor Lupin didn’t study him in the way Lockhart had, with personal pride and vanity, he didn’t study him like Quirrell had, with fearful twitches, he didn’t even study him like Snape did, with loathing and contempt. The way he looked at Harry, made him feel almost like he genuinely cared, like he saw something more than the scar on Harry’s forehead. Professor Lupin was like nobody he had ever met, and in just a few short months, his class had quickly become Harry’s favorite. He looked forward to DADA classes for the first time since coming to Hogwarts. He trusted Professor Lupin more than he trusted many of the other teachers, even though he hadn’t known him that long.

 

Harry was relieved he wasn’t in trouble, but was still confused as to why Professor Lupin wanted to speak with him. “If I’m not in trouble, why did you want to speak with me, sir?” he asked uncertainly.

 

Professor Lupin gave him a small smile. “Just checking in, that’s all,” he assured him. “I was wondering if you had any plans for the holidays?”

 

Harry blinked. “Er, well, I dunno. I don’t have a broom at the moment, but I might take one of the school ones out if the weather’s not too bad, I guess. I usually visit Hagrid a lot too. Why?”

 

“You are staying at school, then?” asked Professor Lupin. “Won’t it be rather quiet?”

 

Harry shrugged. “I always stay at school for the holidays,” he explained. “It gets pretty empty, sure, but Ron always stays and keeps me company. Hermione will be here this year too.”

 

Much to his surprise, Professor Lupin beamed at him, as if he’d told him some great news. “That… sounds wonderful,” said the professor.

 

“Er, yeah,” said Harry, clearing his throat. “What about you, sir? Are you going home?”

 

“I’ll be here as well,” replied Professor Lupin. “You should come by to see me sometime over the break, bring your friends too. I recently procured a grindylow that might interest you.”

 

Harry grinned at the invitation. “I will,” he promised.

 

“Glad to hear it,” said the professor brightly. “Well, I shan’t keep you any longer. Go ahead and catch up with the others.”  


Harry adjusted his bag over his shoulder. “Thank you, sir!” he said turning to go. He was nearly out the door when a voice called him back.

 

“Harry.”

 

He turned. Professor Lupin stood looking after him, his mouth was open as if he wanted to say something. “Professor?”

 

The defense instructor closed his mouth and shook his head slightly, looking conflicted. He gave Harry a small smile all the same. Although, it was oddly melancholy. “Never mind,” said Professor Lupin softly. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

 

Harry have him a nod and smile in return before darting off after his friends.

 

…

 

 Remus had comprised a rather unusual final exam for his third years. He had them pair up and tackle a big obstacle course he’d made up out on the grounds in the spring sunshine. The students had to battle several dark creatures in order to get through to the end. The final challenge was a new boggart in a large, old trunk.

 

He’d pulled Harry aside beforehand. “You don’t have to battle the boggart, Harry,” he said. “You can still get an E, with all of your hard work this year.”

 

“I know, sir, thank you,” said Harry. “But I think I can do it. Besides, I’ll have Ron with me!”

 

“Of course,” said Remus. “I have the utmost faith in the both of you.”

 

Harry beamed at him.

 

Remus scolded himself. He shouldn’t have worried. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley stepped up to the old trunk.

 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Ron in a low whisper to his partner.

 

Harry smirked and winked at his friend.

 

“Ready?” Remus called. Both boys nodded and raised their wands. “Three, two, one, GO!” he threw open the lid of the rattling trunk.

 

The boggart stepped out, barely even getting a chance to form into the shape of Albus Dumbledore before the boys shouted out in unison: “RIDDIKULUS!”

 

There was a brilliant flash of light from the combined spell and Remus blinked dumbfounded at the sight before him before smiling to himself in satisfaction. Yes, he decided, Harry would be alright. He might still have to go back to the Dursleys every summer, but he had Hogwarts, and he had his friends. Remus knew, possibly more than anyone, what the power of friendship could accomplish.

 

He wrote an “O” down for the both of them, but Harry and Ron were too busy to notice. Both were rolling around on the grass, doubled over with laughter, although, Remus hadn’t the slightest clue what could have warranted such mirth. The Boggart floated peacefully in the air in a most peculiar geometric shape. It almost looked like the number 7.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> If you enjoyed, consider leaving some kudos or a comment down below.
> 
> I am working on a bunch of larger projects, but this was a nice break. I am a little late to the game I suppose, but I've only just started writing for Harry Potter. I can't believe it took me so long to get here! It's really too much fun! Anyway, I hope to post more Harry Potter in the future. Thanks again for sticking through to the end!


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